


Eldritch Beings

by ElReyCiervo



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece, Ancient History, Ancient History to Modernity, Atlantis, Blood and Violence, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eldritch, Historical Periods, Historical References, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology References, Nines and Connor Through The Ages, Old Gods, References to Child Harm, period-typical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElReyCiervo/pseuds/ElReyCiervo
Summary: Once he had stumbled from the altar, rising from his four limbs to a more upright two legs, his Creators gave him the last piece to complete their work. After the cold fingers and heavy hands had left his head, he had been given a face. An almost identical face of the Creation that had come right before him.“We create you in the image of our best, our former Eighth Creation. We give you his face and his memories, and the power and ability to surpass him. You are our Ninth Creation, our most powerful and superior. You will be the one to find him.”The Ninth Creation had one objective: find the Eighth and bring him back. No longer how long it took.
Relationships: Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Eldritch Beings

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Detroit: Become Human
> 
> Warnings: blood, violence, harm to children (one line referencing sexual deviancy towards children)
> 
> Words: 4,863
> 
> Note: This fic goes through several points of history and with that, a lot of the things that happened within history (wars, conflict, violence, background politics, adults and children in various states of need/destress, etc). I will make sure I provide warnings in each of the chapters, but violence and conflict will probably be present in the background of each chapter.

The Ninth Creation had been around for eons.

Those who created him had existed for much longer than he.

He had been made through the greed, hatred, and contempt of those who created him. Through the blood they spilled of others, through the metal they robbed from empires, and the minds they stole from helpless victims, he was made. The Ninth Creation remembered rising on four limbs from the flat altar they had spelled to be his birthplace, capturing the glimpses of blue blood flowing into his body, silver and metal slithering into his mouth, and the whispers of all the collective knowledge of the Creations before him seeping into his own mind.

Enchanted blue ichor, to give him life.

Unbreakable metal-hard fangs and claws, to give him power.

All knowledge of the past Creations, to make him superior.

Once he had stumbled from the altar, rising from his four limbs to a more upright two legs, they gave him the last piece to complete their work. After the cold fingers and heavy hands had left his head, he had been given a face. An almost identical face of the Creation that had come right before him.

“We create you in the image of our best, our former Eighth Creation. We give you his face and his memories, and the power and ability to surpass him. You are our Ninth Creation, our most powerful and superior. You will be the one to find him.”

As a mage would take in their experiment, his creators were silent as they watched their naked Ninth Creation take in and catalog his surroundings. He squatted to peer down in the pool of blood around him, reflective even as thick as it was. The skewed red hue aside, the face that peered back at him was pale, dotted in freckles and topped with wavy dark hair like a crown. The slow fingers that reached up to touch his cheek were equally pale, only several shades darker than the marble altar he was spawned from. Fingers slid slightly upward to caress his cheekbones. The blazing cyan points that were burning in the pits of black of his sclera were bright and filled with a drive.

He stood up, obedient and waiting for his directive.

His Creators waved an arm, a needlessly grandiose gesture for those who made him with such ease, and the white cloth that had been strung along the altar was magicked to create clothing. Shaping and forming itself to his body, the cloth stiffened around his neck, swallowed his arms, hugged his torso, and hid his legs from view. He brought his arms closer to himself for inspection. Deeming there was something to be added—although not needed, as that would have said his Creators were imperfect in forgetting something—he called power that resided inside him, the power that had been bestowed upon him, and shaped it into being. Deathless black shadows caressed him as they formed into armor: chin-high neck guard, flexible breastplate, light vambraces for his arms, and greaved boots for his legs.

Pleased at the addition, his Creators reached out to tip his head back, finger under his chin, then to turn his face to either side, finger on his cheek. The Ninth Creation stayed still under his Creators' gaze, wanting to be the perfect and obedient tool for them.

“Go now, our powerful Ninth.”

Wreathed in the pure white of the gift his Creators made for him and the deep black of his own shadows, he nodded and set off. The heavy, fire-hot brand of his Creators' gaze on his back was an accelerant to his charging pace. They expected perfection, and the Ninth would do everything in the power coursing through his body to be just that, to be the spearhead of their will.

He knew who the being he had to find looked like.

He would not fail his mission.

Despite the Ninth Creation's determination to complete his mission swiftly, the Eighth Creation was harder to find than expected. Additionally, despite the Eighth's clear malfunctioning nature, he knew how to stay hidden.

The Ninth roamed from population to population, from great city to great city, wandering in his two-legged form to gather information about his predecessor. Many golden suns rose and blazed across the energized skies while equally many silver moons streaked across the deep, star-rich nights. When years and decades passed with no progress, he abandoned his two-legged form as he left one empire to the next to his four-legged form of a beast as he delved into the wooded forests. His silken shadows allowed for the ease of form manipulation, yet it was in his beast form where he could move and migrate without a second glance. The beasts and wolves of the forest were comfortable with his formidable mass of ichor-powered muscle, his galvanized teeth and fangs, and his glowing eyes. Under the cover of beasts, roaming around the territories of empires through their thick forests, it was easy to traverse and gather information. Humans, the simple creatures that they were, had loose lips as they stumbled into the forests he resided in, confident that a being pounding the leaf-covered floor could not understand them.

The first time he saw the Eighth Creation with his own two eyes was from afar during the sinking of Atlantis. Amidst the roar of the sea swallowing the dying civilization and deafening cracking of the hills and mountains crumbling into the churning depths, there stood one solitary figure on a cliff watching the destruction. His calm almost serene demeanor was a stark contrast to the chaotic end of the dammed people beneath his feet. Two-legged and upright in the form of a man, the Eighth was garbed in colors much darker than the Ninth's norm. Even with such a distance between them, the Ninth's enhanced eyes could see the black robe, shorter than his own, framing the gray tunic and tights underneath. The deeper gray, near black, of his shoulder, torso, and leg armor gleamed against the sun.

The power exuding from that slender, tall form interested the Ninth utmost.

He would later discover that the Eighth had felled the great empire himself. As would then be recounted by the very few surviving Atlantians, the Eighth had saved the ones who were supposedly good, the ones who were neglected, the ones who deserved better, before decimating the corrupt and their edifices hours later.

What a _curious_ creature.

The Ninth thought it best to make himself scarce before the Eighth took notice of him. The Eighth was not what he had expected, and his actions only compelled the Ninth’s need to learn more about him. Still in his beast form, he let the shadows swallow him in order to vanish out of the area. Before he was completely engulfed, however, he was sure his target's figure shifted and those two pinpricks of red had flicked to look at him.

“Have you been able to subdue the Eighth? What is his status?” his Creators asked, slowly circling him as they inspected him up and down.

Even from his position in the center of the chamber, kneeling on one knee with head bent and eyes close, his Creators’ presence was powerful enough that he did not need eyes to see where they moved throughout the chamber. “I have not,” he answered dutifully. “The Eighth is much more elusive than expected. I have, however, been tracking him ever since you have dispatched me. In my most recent discovery of him, I encountered the fall of the advanced human civilization of Atlantis.” He heard a curious hum behind him, but the silence that followed gave him permission to continue. “The cause for the destruction was the Eighth himself, my Masters.”

The silence after he made the final part of his report hung heavy in the air. He did not fidget or squirm like the pests and rodents that plagued the forests in which he often roamed, no. The Ninth, nevertheless, was thankful when his Creators finally said something. They stopped behind his back. One heavy, cold hand came to rest on his shoulder while another slowly curled to hover close over his neck. He opened his eyes.

“Up,” they said as that second hand rose to shift under his chin. The hand cupped the underside of his chin and tilted it up, prompting him to rise with both the motion and the command. He could feel their fingers resting lightly over both his arteries, the blood they gave him a steady thrum under their fingertips. 

He waited for his next order.

“Do not be discouraged, our Ninth,” they said as they removed their hands from his body. “The Eighth Creation is powerful, the most so until you were formed. You have not failed, and so we wish for you to continue your pursuit. Go.”

His Creators were perfect and knew what was best.

He would be their perfect tool and do what was asked of him.

Nearly two and a half centuries later, and the fall of Atlantis had sent humanity’s collective knowledge and understanding of the world around them into the figurative mire of stagnation. As lowly and pathetic as humans were, weak and fickle creatures, the Ninth Creation had to admit that Atlantis had been one of their greatest achievements.

That fact aside, the Ninth continued his mission to track the Eighth as his Creators commanded of him. He had to abandon the forests from where he commanded the beasts under him to new lands, mysterious and distant. To cross the great watery expanse of the sea, he had to travel by his two-legged form, that of a man. Even his shadow form, as powerful as it was, could not cross vast distances over water without assistance. The humans he encountered, although not attuned to beings such as himself, sensed he was not as they were. That he was not borne as they were.

They gave him passage without question.

Boats, as he learned, were an interesting human invention that allowed them to cross the vast distances of water. (A pity, Atlantis had much greater vessels.) Through the dark marshlands of one area to the tall grasslands of another, the Ninth’s journey eventually took him to a much different land. It was the moon’s dominion when he stepped ashore, the silver disk large and bright as it rested in the sky. Although in a different land, the silver disk and its glittering, tiny companions were the same, and that offered some comfort to the Ninth Creation.

~~(He was a tool and did not need comfort.)~~

The humans with whom he had passed scurried away as soon as they had docked. It was a wise decision on their part. Without delay, he wandered his way further into the black soiled land along the river—the Nile, he would learn it to be called. The soil smelled rich under his feet and the reeds the grew along the banks were pleasing to touch against his fingers as he walked. His destination was not clear, but he knew that the Eighth was somewhere is this land. Despite not being close in proximity to one another during his last sighting of his predecessor, it was enough to grow attuned to the other’s energy and power. He could sense that the Eighth was hiding in these lands.

The many hours of the night gave him the necessary time to move swiftly and gather information about where he was. Black fertile soil gave way to stones and sparse hills which gave way to warm sands. The beasts of the Egyptian sands were not like those from whence he came. The birds were either of water or flesh, crane or vulture, while the other beasts came in many different sorts. The river he had left behind him bore scaled creatures filled with muscle and teeth, the crocodile, and the charging bulk of the water cow, the hippo. There were no forests like he had known to house wolves nor towering trees to give flight ravens and crows. Instead, the caves and sands were home to the snake, to the scorpion, and to Egypt’s own four-legged canine.

Night began to wane as the golden sun breached the horizon. The cover of the dunes hid the Ninth’s being as his shadows morphed and shifted him to an altered four-legged form. Egypt’s jackal.

He spent many moon cycles wandering around Egypt, his beast form a larger version than jackals naturally residing here. It was in this form that he was comfortable wandering the dunes, the hills, the cliffs, and the Nile. The atmosphere of the land was tense, heated not only from the swelled sun, but also from the rise of the Heretic King, as they called him (1). Traversing the kingdom in the form of a man would have made the Ninth’s mission more complicated given the political situation; therefore, his beast form became prominent.

He cared little for the humans he encountered, but they were the ones from whom he received his information. Often bandits, who screamed and cried when encountering him, pleading to their own gods for mercy and life. A creature with metal as its fangs and teeth, larger than anything, and eyes that burned the most unnatural blue in the dark that had ever been before witnessed. In his time in Egypt, the Ninth became known as the Devourer Jackal, beast of the sands who ate anyone in his way that displeased him.

And most displeased him.

All but children, to his surprise.

Humans were not much of a pleasantry to the Ninth. Most were selfish, the majority violent is some way or form, and all of them could die rather easily. To him, they were as vulnerable as mice to a hungry beast. Soft, multiplied rapidly, and ate up many resources. To someone like him, whose lifespan had already reached hundreds upon hundreds of years, humans were mere wisps. Simple fleeting wisps of life-flame that disappeared into the night of eternity as quick as they appeared.

He made it a point not to interact with humans unless strictly necessary—often times eating bandits and thieves. His self-appointed policy changed when he began stumbling across lone children in the desert. The first time it had happened, it was a small waif thing. He had paid it little attention and would have passed by it until he heard the whimpers. He had paused, large paws stilling in the hot sands, and listened more carefully. They had not been the sounds of a healthy child, but one in pain. Against his better judgment, he had tracked where the sad sounds were coming from and padded closer. The sight he was met with made vengeful anger well in his chest like a flood about to swallow a whole forest. The small thing, a boy, had been curled on himself on dirt-sand mix in the shade of a large rock. Bruises, cuts, and blood had littered his body and two empty sacks had not been far from him. The Ninth’s large ears picked up the sounds of laughter from men not far away.

They had not been jovial in tone, but rather malicious conceit. Thieves.

A snarl had stretched across his muzzle. He disliked humans, but he truly hated those that acted on their evil actions unto those who could not even defend themselves. He was a tool made for a purpose, but even he could recognize it took a true wickedness to harm those who had done absolutely nothing. He would have left and ate those men since he had recognized the child was going to die out in the desert heat, but a touch to his front paw made him look down. A small tan hand had reached out and tearful brown eyes had met his blue. There was no fear present in those eyes towards the Ninth, an odd and questionable thing considering his unnatural being. A long moment had passed that he looked at this small creature. With his judgment yet again telling him not to do so, he had bent down to prod the child with his muzzle. With care, he had lifted the boy using his muzzle and head, then let the boy slide down his massive neck onto his back.

Even a creature such as he could take his time and be careful of the…cargo on his back. Sending one last growl in the direction of the men, he had set off in the direction of the nearest village. When he got to the village, he had barked to grab the attention of the nearest villager to present the child on his back. He had set the child down when the adult encroached cautiously, and then bounded off.

This had not been the first time something of that nature had happened.

The next time, he had led a small girl away from the crocodiles that threatened to eat her in the Nile.

The third time, he had eaten a man for harming two girls with his disgusting sexual deviancy.

The time after that, he guided a boy who had been stranded from his family, across the cold clutches of the nighttime desert.

The children were…distractions, was all. He still continued to eat adults who displeased him. Of whom were nefarious in nature. Of whom were better off not plaguing other Egyptians with their mere presence. Of whom were violent, greedy, evil.

He spared a few adults from time to time, shadows melting into the ones cut from the hills of the dunes, two blue flames the only things visible. Spare a few to further his presence by word of mouth. Of these he spared, he overheard information about a new phenomenon rising in the land of black soil, a new god. The Savior, this being was called. Shed the Savior. (2)

A curious new being.

He followed human rumors and gossip. During the day, he wandered into the villages on two legs, a man making painfully awkward chatter with locals to gain more information. Most were wary of him due to his presence, due to the energy he emitted—as they should be. He had only done this once. It was at night, however, that he could glean what he needed. At night, he melted into the shadows that stretched across the dunes and the hills. Black as the Nile soil when it is fertile, he sits in waits in the bobbing shadows of fires created by those travelling and making camp at night. His form was never noticed among the natural movements of the fire shadows.

From one group of merchants, he heard that Shed saved them from a band of corrupt men in employ under Akhenaten. Men who used the tension from the rise of the Heretic King to claim what they wanted. According to these merchants, Shed fought them with hand and rod, possessing the strength of ten men. He was fast as the blink of an eye and had seemed to have the awareness as if he possessed more than the two eyes on his face.

A month after this, he heard more whisperings of Shed. This was during the in-between awakening of the sun and the rising slumber of the moon. In the overwhelming expanse of dark in the sanctuary of the bushes near a human habitation, he listened to two women talk about their encounter. It was normal for them to be up when the moon slumbered and then sun awakened in order to make bread—grind wheat and grind it into flour. A large snake, the size of two people or more, had crept on their area seeking the warmth of their fires. Shed had appeared almost from the dark itself and struck down the serpent as it struck at the women. When they went to thank him, they found him gone, only two glowing flecks of red in the receding dark. They thought them embers from the fire.

The most recent activity of Shed was witnessed with the Ninth’s own eyes.

The tensions between those loyal to Akhenaten and those who resisted his rule rose to a climax during a sleepy night. The two factions clashed against one another, the sounds of ringing metal and stomping horse hooves battering the peace of the night away. The fighting eventually made its way to one of the nearby villages, drawing civilian villagers into the crossfire, people who had no want or desire to be near the religious conflict. The Ninth watched just outside the village as the screams of fighting men slowly became overtaken by the screams of frightened and panicked villagers. The shrieks of women and children pierced the frantic yells of men.

Unease began to fill in his chest. The people there were going to die eventually; he should not concern himself with the politics and aftermath of humans…

But the children…

Flashes of all the young ones he had saved blinked throughout his mind as he watched the flames roar through the village with increasing intensity. The little boy beaten by bandits, the young small girl almost eaten by a crocodile, the two girls harmed by the perverse man, and the other boy who had been lost from his family. The Ninth was a tool forged by his Creators for one purpose. These children were distractions, simple humans who were going to die at one point or another. Small, fragile, needy things. He had already wasted time being foolish on these time-wasting endeavors. “Rescuing” people—children—was not part of his mission.

Even so, the thought of small bodies being harmed made him feel…ill. The blue ichor in his veins felt cold, liquid ice against the heat radiating off the village.

He was confused.

He was uncertain.

…He heard crying.

He moved anyway.

Still in his beast form, he ran towards the burning village. His great paws pounded against the sand, stones, dirt, and now, ash. In the confusion of weapons clashing and people trying to escape, no one paid much attention to the large jackal racing throughout the village like a possessed thing. He ducked and weaved around fallen barrels, broken pottery, and felled bodies. After turning a few corners, he had to dispose a few of the warring men, but it was without difficulty. Even leather armor and metal weapons could not stand a chance against a creature like himself made from those outside of human origin. The men screamed in fear once they realized they would not win. The screams died to wet gurgles. His claws were soiled red.

The humans were having a difficult time with the heat, and even to a creature like him, it was growing bothersome.

He saw Shed the Savior with his very own eyes that night. Amongst the growing flames, plumes of smoke and falling ash, this new god Shed was not who he expected. For such a powerful being that the humans spoke of, he had expected Shed was of great height and burly muscle. It was hard to make out details amongst all the movement and the haze of smoke, but his eyes allowed him to see a tall figure about his height though slightly less broad in build. Slender. Other than that, specific details escaped him.

All but one.

Throwing a man away from him with the ease of lifting a water flask, Shed turned to the Ninth when he heard him bite through the leg of a man of the Pharaoh. Blood dripped into his mouth and down his muzzle, a warm wetness. The one detail that could be made out in the dark of the night and the haze of the smoke stilled him to the very bones of his body. Shining brighter than the flames were two blazing orbs of red. Eyes, red eyes. Crimson met cyan. For a moment, the universe paused in its eternal continuation of time, space, and existence.

He had seen those eyes like those before.

Could Shed be…?

That power he was sensing…that had to be him.

The dam of frozen time broke when a soldier swung his weapon to attack Shed. Shed deflected the blow this his staff, knocking the weapon clean out of the man’s hand, the sheer power from it also throwing the man to the ground. The community-proclaimed god’s silhouette pointed towards the far end of the village where the flames had not yet eaten. “Go!” he yelled. “I know not who you are, but I know you are not like the others. Go, and take the children! I will hold them here.”

The Ninth did not understand why he listened to the voice that directed him, especially a voice that was not one of his Creators, but he did. He did. He held the red gaze of Shed for one moment longer before dipping his head in a nod and bolting off. With each step taken closer towards the far end of the village, his form took in the dark around him. Bones lengthened and muscles grew, his form swelling until he became over three times his previous size. When he arrived at the cluster of homes that remained still intact from the fires and violence, his shoulders alone reached the roofs.

He huffed loudly and thumped a paw against the ground. The sounds he made attracted the attention of the children inside, one or two poking their heads outside. Foolish things. If he were an enemy, there would be no heads left on their bodies. Despite such, they were children, and children knew not of all the common understandings of adults. The two that first looked out from their homes appeared frightened at his size, but it was the small third head that peaked around them that changed their reluctance. This third child was one that the Ninth recognized, the very first boy he saved. Tan skin, black braided hair, large brown eyes.

The little boy ran out of the home to the protest of the first two children to stand in front of the Ninth. The Ninth bent down his head and nudged the child with his nose, the size of it matching the size of the boy’s whole torso. The motion set the child back a few steps as the boy was small, but it did not knock him down. Little arms wrapped and clung around the Ninth’s snout, and he could feel the relief and fright shaking them.

Such small beings should not be in places like this.

The Ninth was made to be a tool. A tracker, a hunter, a fighter, a beast.

Children were not any of those things. He needed to get them away from this place.

Just like the first time, he hefted the boy up with his head and let him slide down his neck until he sat on his back. Once settled, he set his cyan eyes on the other children now huddled by the doors of their homes staring at him. The glow of the distant, yet encroaching flames were easily reflected in their eyes in the dark of the night. The smell of smoke warned of its arrival. The sounds of metal and men were growing closer. He sat down so that his great bulk was closer to the ground and he beat a paw against the earth to get their attention. The boy on his back called to the other children, letting them know to come to him, to climb on. Another beat of the Ninth’s paw was the sound they needed to get their feet moving and join the boy. One then two, soon five, then ten. With little hands helping other little hands, he soon had thirteen boys and girls of various ages balancing on his back. A few started coughing as smoke began to swirl and float around them. It was time to go.

Careful of the cargo on his back, he set off into the night. Away from the fires, away from the conflict and fighting.

Away from those red eyes…for now.

Little hands of many children clung to his fur. He could feel their grips, tight with fear and anxiety. It made him run faster.

He may have been a tool with one objective, but perhaps he could be a multipurpose tool just for now.

Just until they were safe.

The next day when the smoke cleared and the fires died, he learned that there was a village no longer. All burned to the ground. The only survivors were the thirteen children he had taken with him.

Shed, or the Eighth, was nowhere to be found.

It was not until he left the land of pyramids, the Nile, and pharaohs that he realized something that struck him. For the first time, it was in Egypt that he had acted for the sake of a being other than himself. Other than his Creators.

The Devourer Jackal—now known as the Devourer Jackal, Watcher of Children—became evidence of that. The Great Jackal who guided children from harm.

The sound of that was…pleasing to him.

* * *

Published: 11/1/2020

A/N: This was supposed to be published yesterday on Halloween, but I figured that Nov 1st is still spooky enough. There will be about 2 or more chapters after this one. The whole fic was supposed to be a long one-shot, but it ended up becoming a chaptered fic.

(1) The Heretic King, known as Akhenaten, introduced monotheism into otherwise polytheistic Egypt. He introduced Atensim, or the belief in only one god, the god Aten. He ruled during the Amarna Period. (<https://www.ancient.eu/Amarna_Period_of_Egypt/>)

(2) The Egyptian deity Shed, prominent after the Amarna period (the latter half of the 18th Dynasty, 1549/50 – 1292 BCE) in Egypt. He represented the concept of salvation. The rise of "Savior" names in personal piety during the Amarna period has been interpreted as the popular response of ordinary people to the attempts by Akhenaten to proscribe the ancient religion of Egypt. Although Shed is mostly found after this period, I am fudging the dates a little to make this god present during the Amarna period in this fic to fit the theme a little better. (<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shed_(deity)>)


End file.
